Once Upon a December
by The World in Black and White
Summary: He was stolen from his fathers at the age of one, snatched from his crib. His 'mummy' was killed trying to get him back, two of his fathers obliviated to believe he died on that night and the last in Azkaban. He was a genius in all ways, capable of things only dreamt of. He WILL have his family back, be it by fire or blood. Do not stand in his way. Contains MALExMALE! I own plot .
1. Chapter 1

Seven year old Harry Potter sat in the corner of his classroom. His back ached from the welts his uncle's 'punishment' last night had left and he could feel the blood trickling over the myriad of scars his abused young body held. On his face, a patch hid his left eye from view, as well as the three scars that ran through it and the unnaturally white whites of his eye, as well as his amethyst iris and the white pentagram that cut across his iris, made up of strange runes he could only see with his exceptional eyesight that the only eye he could see out of normally, his right, wielded.

His left, however, was strange. Normally he could see nothing at all out of it, but when he concentrated, he could see many different things.

The first one he discovered was a strange vision that turned everything into shades of grey, with most people coloured in that manner. Some, however, became bright red, gold, blue or even white, and all of a sudden every drop of blood ever spilt, wiped away or years old, was visible in the same red his 'family' glowed.

The second showed utter blackness, the only colour the 'auras', as he liked to call them, that surrounded people, making them discernible even in a crowd.

The third and final was the most interesting, in his personal opinion, it allowed him to see everything about someone. Their past, present, future, lies, truths, hatreds, loves and so on.

In an attempt to destroy the most visible proof of his 'freakishness', his uncle had dragged a knife through his left eye three times, from the eyebrow to the bottom of his eye socket.

It had earnt him the beating of lifetime, dragged over days and days, when the eye had remained the same way in appearance, though he had lost his sight in that eye until he discovered his 'abilities'.

He really was a freak.

"Okay, everyone! Now we're going to do finger painting. You know the drill." The 20-something teacher chirped cheerfully from the front of the classroom, and Harry rolled his eyes as he picked up the paintbrush and began his work.

"Finger painting. How plebeian." He snarled softly at the dirty children laughing and, ugh, giggling to each other.

Miss Jane Taylor stood at the front of the classroom, scanning the children carefully.

At 26, she had been working there for 4 years and loved every minute of it.

Her gaze narrowed on the ethereally beautiful boy at the back of the classroom, a Harry Potter, if she wasn't mistaken. His expression was very closed off. Perhaps he didn't feel well?

Her mind made up, she began to walk towards the boy, which ended up taking about five minutes due to other children calling her over to view their 'masterpieces' or give advice.

"Hello there. Are you feeling oka-" she choked in awe.

On the canvas before her was one of the most amazing paintings she had ever seen.

A rose, so dark a purple it was almost black, with a few highlights of electric purple and cobalt blue where the artificial expertly painted golden sunlight hit it. The stem was a rich green that was a few shades darker than the boy's own sparkling emerald eye. From a few of the perfectly pointed thorns dripped blood, and an opalescent butterfly with a small tear in its wing that looked to be falling took up the rest of the canvas. A shadow, which when focused upon looked like a hawk of some variety, hung over the center of the painting's contents, leaving the outer thirds free and sunlight, the half of the rose and butterfly that sat in these parts free of any and all flaws.

"My word." She breathed in awe as she reached out to touch the canvas almost reverently. She was shocked out of her reverie when a small, luminescent, pale hand slapped hers away softly.

"It is still drying. Don't touch it." Harry ordered in a small voice.

"I-I'm sorry." She stammered. "Have you ever done anything else like this?"

Harry didn't comment, but simply pulled a sketchbook out of his bag and handed it to her.

Jane flipped through it in awe of the perfect recreations of fantasy and reality the book contained. Heck, there was even a picture of herself in there!

"Why, this is amazing Mr Potter! Why wasn't this discovered?" she enquired after handing him the book back.

"I was very sick last year, and didn't attend school." The lie his uncle had taught him to tell all who asked fell from his lips naturally.

"Yes, well, could you follow me please, Mr Potter?" she asked.

Jane led him to the counsellor's office where she explained the situation to the kindly man.

"Hello Mr Potter, my name is John East, but how about you call me John and I call you Harry, hmm?" he asked, tilting his head softly as he took in the unnerving gaze of the boy before him.

"That would be acceptable." Harry stated simply.

"Brilliant. If you could just do these tests for me-"

A few weeks later, and numerous severe beatings for "being better than Diddydums", a knock came at the door of Number 4 Privet Drive.

"Hello, Mr Dursley? We are from the Tower Prep Institute and would like to speak to Harry Potter, please?" A professional looking man spoke on their doorstep, with two rather intimidating men on either side of him, all three wearing black suits.

"No one by the name of Harry Potter lives here." Vernon replied quickly as he attempted to slam the door in their faces, but one of the men stuck his foot in the gap to stop his attempts and leaned in, sneering dangerously.

"I think you'll find, Mr Dursley, that you're under arrest for child abuse. And the rest of your family, too." He snarled, the scar on the right side of his face twisting what could have been a warm, kindly face into a terrifying one. "Take him away."

"Harry, are you here?" The man who had knocked on the door called, stepping into the house and walking up the steps.

"Hey, wait! Did you hear that?" the third man spoke up, standing in the hallway. There it was, a small whimper. "Oh, god, he's in there!" he yelled, yanking on the cupboard door so hard he broke it.

The sight before him broke his heart.

A small, malnourished and naked boy that was seven years old but looked to be no older than four lay curled in the foetal position on the tiny cot and bloodstained sheet.

His eyes were feverish from the pain and blood dripped onto the floor, creating a dangerously large puddle.

"Come here, son. We've got you. You'll be okay now." The first man spoke softly, scooping Harry up in his arms with the blanket wrapped around his to preserve modesty.

"Wait." A soft, feminine voice spoke up from behind them, and they turned swiftly to see Petunia Dursley standing behind them with a large trunk. "These are his things." Was all she said, before walking out to join her husband in the police car. He snarled something angrily at her under his breath, and she snapped "Shut up, Vernon!" to silence him.

"Do you think we should go through that to make sure there ain't anything, untoward or something?" the second man asked.

"No. We should respect what little dignity the poor boy has left. Now, let's get him to a hospital."

_Four years later…_

Harry sat in his room at the Institute. He loved it here, quite sincerely.

They were judged, sorted and treated according to skill level and he was a special star, the highest one could achieve. This allowed him huge benefits. It worked like this;

No star: Tiny room, two pieces of toast, one sandwhich, two minute noodles, £300 a week allowance.

One star: Small room, two pieces of toast and beans, one sandwhich and one snack, chicken and vegetables and lower, £500 allowance.

Two star: Medium room, two pieces of toast and beans with bacon, one sandwhich, one piece of fruit and one snack, burgers and chips and lower, £800 allowance.

Three star: Moderate room, two pieces of toast and beans with bacon and a bread roll, one sandwhich, three snacks/fruit, spaghetti bolognaise and lower, £1000 allowance.

Four star: Large room, full English breakfast, two sandwiches, three snacks/fruit, all meals and one desert, £1500 allowance.

Five star: Large room + bathroom, full English breakfast, two sandwiches, four snacks/fruit, all meals and two deserts, £2000 allowance.

Special Star: Apartment, Buffet meals, £3000 allowance.

So, yes, he was quite proud of himself. He loved his rooms. He dedicated the smaller of the two room "apartment" to books, so the main room was an open plan bedroom/living room, but he didn't mind. He had a lot of books.

He was a genius, by genius standards, and was currently working on a thesis for Oxford.

That was how Tower Prep worked, you see. They trained child genius' to the best of their abilities and in return they gave them jobs like writing thesis' and experimenting on things like particle physics that the "experts" were having trouble with as soon as their education was over.

It hadn't taken them long to realise that whatever severe head trauma that had caused Harry to become so smart had outdone even their educational abilities. There was truly nothing they could teach him, their youngest student.

As for his rescue, four years earlier, Harry could barely remember the first week after that due to fever, but he could remember the injuries he sustained.

He would be forever scarred, but then, he had been for years prior. The worst was the fact that his left ankle had completely shattered and he would never walk unaided again without a noticeable and painful limp.

So he had a cane. Made of Gabboon ebony and rosewood with a yew handle, inlaid with mother-of-pearl and carved into a beautiful serpent. It was truly a work of art, in his personal opinion.

His gaze turned to the chest in the corner of his library. He had not wanted to open it, but now he found himself, eleven as of tomorrow, with a niggling sense that he had to find out what was in there. So it was, with great trepidation, that he opened the chest that contained his truth.

Now, he had always known he was different. He could will things into happening, whether it was changing his appearance, slightly or drastically, like how he made his hair grow to hip length faster and gave himself a few extra inches of height, or making things levitate, making them appear out of nowhere (although after the case of the disappearing items from the local corner shop that he saw on the news he changed the definition of that description), making them something else, transporting himself to anywhere (he had greatly enjoyed Japan, China, Russia, France, Italy, Scotland, Ireland, America and the numerous other places he had visited, if only to become fluent in the dialects they used) and so many other things he could not even put a name to.

His favourite, thought, was his ability to talk to snakes that had given him his best friend, his Black Mamba whom he named Christian. A full meter long and albino, his snake was the most precious thing he had ever owned.

And so he opened the trunk, and pulled out a leather diary labelled Lily Evans, the last name crossed out and replaced with Potter. "This is my mother's diary." He realised aloud, Christian hissing his agreement from Harry's shoulder. "Well, should we read it?" he hissed to his friend, who replied in the affirmative.

_A few hours later…_

The final book dropped from his hands with a dull thud. He couldn't believe it! There were other people like him, that taught people like him to control his abilities like him! And they weren't just abilities, it was… magic.

It was magical.

"I'm a wizard." He said, as though that would help it sink in. "I'm a wizard!" he exclaimed happily, and would have done a happy dance to the best of his ability had Christian not hissed at him to focus.

He dug deeper into the chest, below folds of fabric and other books he swore to read cover to cover, to grab a small file of papers. Adoption papers? What?

"I don't believe it…" he whispered softly. His "parents" weren't even his parents. They had adopted… no, stolen him from his real parents, Tom Riddle, Lucius Malfoy, Rabastan Lestrange and Severus Snape.

His "name" wasn't even his name. His real name was beautiful, Prince Altair Aeviternus Malfoy-Snape-Lestrange-Riddle.

He had been stolen from his crib at a year old, it seemed, when Lily and James Potter's son had died and a man named Dumbledore, Olde English for Bumblebee, he noted absently, had learnt of his father's, namely Tom's, child and heir. Who, apparently, couldn't be allowed to live. And this man was supposed to be the lord of the light, god help them all!

"Although…" he mused, "how Lucius, Severus and Rabastan managed to get this Tom pregnant with all of their-" he cut himself off. There were some things in this world one just did not need to know.

And that one didn't just take the cake, it took the whole. Bloody. Christmas tin.

"Moving on!" he said hurriedly, grabbing the first book from the chest he could and opening it, much to Christian's amusement. "Hmm… occlumency? Sounds interesting, and worth a try."

He closed his eyes and imagined delving, deep into his mind where only he could be. No one else.

_When he opened his eyes, he was in a black space. Silvery mist drifted around him and he shivered slightly from the cold. It was so cold… _

_"Dancing bears, painted wings, things I almost remember…"_

_Ghostly figures passed him, replaying his memories like a movie._

_"And a song someone sings, once upon a December. Someone holds me safe and warm,"_

_Himself as a baby, crying. A man came in, he was elegant and beautiful and he just knew it was his mummy. He had hair down to his waist, black as night with rubies for eyes and pale skin. He watched as his mummy crooned softly._

_"horses prance through a silver storm."_

_He was riding a beautiful silver winged horse, in front of a man with platinum blond hair that flowed just past his shoulders. The man had a strong jaw and molten silver eyes. That was his daddy, he realised as he watched the man expertly steer the mount into a soft landing with one hand, the other wrapped around his own 1 year old body that rested against the man._

_"Figures dancing gracefully across my memory."_

_A ball, his first birthday. Men and women danced, even children as people smiled and laughed, offering congratulations and gifts and women cooed over his sleeping form in the arms of his mummy._

_"Far away, long ago,"_

_A beautiful manor, seemingly so isolated and far from the world, ten years older now…_

_"glowing dim as an ember."_

_A beautiful fireplace in his room, offering light and warmth as a man with black hair and eyes gently rocked him to sleep, face emotionless as his eyes shone with love, adoration and reverence, as though he could not believe in the existence of the child._

_"Things my heart used to know,"_

_A woman, whom his platinum-blond daddy called Narcissa Malfoy, and a baby boy in her arms, the product of herself and the man she couldn't marry that stood to her other side. The three of them smiled almost sadly._

_"Once upon a December."_

_Snow. Such beautiful snow that distracted him from the homely scene within the house and drew him to the window instead. Such beautiful snow._

_"Someone holds me safe and warm,"_

_His last daddy, a brown-blond man with chocolate eyes and a rugged look pulled funny faces and laughed when he giggled._

_"horses prance through a silver storm."_

_A beautiful stuffed toy, that matched the magnificent horse he had seen himself riding earlier._

_"Figures dancing gracefully across my memory."_

_More ghostly figures moved across the room, blurring together like smoke until he couldn't make them out._

_"Far away, long ago,"_

_Another scene, a woman and man sneak into his room. He has shaggy black hair and horrid hazel eyes, and she had horrid almost carrot coloured red hair and green eyes that clashed horribly, freckles smattering her unattractively._

_"glowing dim as an ember."_

_"Your name is Harry James Potter. I'm your mummy and this is your daddy. Say it, now, baby!" she cooed horribly in his face, her own creasing into a snarl as he smacked him and called to her husband that he wasn't behaving himself._

_"Things my heart used to know,"_

_He wanted his mummy and daddies. Where were they?_

_"things it yearns to remember."_

_The door broke down as the red haired woman pointed her wand. "Give me back my baby!" his mummy screamed from the door. "Never!" red snapped. "Avade Kedavra!" his mummy yelled, and a flash of green ended red for good. "My baby, what have they done to you?" his mummy whimpered as he took in the bruises littering Harry's 15 month old body. "Well, well, well, Tom." The Bumblebee snarled from the doorway. His mummy clutched him to his chest and glared defiantly. "Get away from us!" he growled. The Bumblebee became a wasp. "Avada Kedavra!" it screamed, and his mummy threw himself between Harry and the curse._

_"And a song someone sings,"_

_"Oh, Albus. I have a bad feeling about this. Are you sure we did the right thing?" an elderly woman worried, pacing in front of an all-too-familiar house. "Yes, Minerva. We have saved this child from a life of pain with the Dark Lord. This was most assuredly the right thing." He replied sombrely. Lies!_

_"once upon a December…"_

"No!" Harry screamed as he shot upright.

'What is wrong? Master?' Christian hissed, hovering worriedly over Harry's face.

'I want my mummy.' He sobbed, clinging to his best friend with everything he had, and as the snake hissed comfortingly to him he rocked back and forth, wailing for his mummy and daddies to save him.

Where were they?

**A/N: I don't own Once Upon a December, the beautiful and kinda perfect for this story song comes from Anastasia, and all rights go to them etc.**

**Basically; Roses are red, violets are blue. I no own, so you no sue!**


	2. Chapter 2

"How goes the search?" Lucius Malfoy asked tiredly, rubbing his hand over his face before turning to face Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange.

"We think Albania. We are leaving in half an hour." Bellatrix replied softly.

"We'll find him, Lucius." Rodolphus placed his hand comfortingly on the arm of his brother-in-law. "How are you faring in getting Rabastan out of jail?"

"Good." Lucius said, perking up immediately. "He's due to be released in two weeks."

"Oh, Lucius, that's wonderful news!" Bellatrix gushed encouragingly.

"Yeah." He said, smiling shakily. "Both Severus and I have missed him very much."

"And what about Draco? How is he?"

"He reacted better than I thought he would. A true Malfoy, that boy, blood related or not. He's enjoying spending time with Narcissa and his father in France. Keeps sending me tiny Eiffel Towers, the brat." Lucius said fondly, though sadness flickered in his eyes.

"Prince would be happy for you. They would have been best friends and co-conspirators." Bellatrix said softly, eyes tearing at the thought of her godson.

Prince Altair Aeviternus Malfoy-Snape-Lestrange-Riddle had been born on the 31st of July 1980. He had been a beautiful baby, with striking blue eyes that were obviously Tom's, shaped like Lucius', high, defined cheekbones that belonged to Severus, a strong jaw from Lucius and rich black locks that fell in ringlets, the curls from Rabastan but the colour once again inherited from his mummy.

Just after his first birthday, he had fallen ill and passed on, on the same night as Tom was killed by the Potter brat.

It was clear to see how heavy the loss of both two of their husband's and their baby boy had weighed on both Severus and Lucius, both of whom had drifted apart until their only real connection was the loss and pain both felt constantly, the ever-present dark circles from lack of sleep and the ritual of mourning every Halloween night.

Currently, it was mid-July of what would have been Prince's first year at Hogwarts. The only upside was that it was the Potter Brat's first year. Lucius and Severus both couldn't wait to unleash utter hell on him. It was, after all, he who killed their beloved Tom.

_One month later…_

"Is it ready?" Lucius asked Severus Snape as the man puttered around the decadent potions lab of Malfoy Manor.

"Yes." he replied absently.

"Are you certain nothing's gone wrong, because-"

"Yes!" Severus snapped irritably, turning to glare at Lucius defensively. "My potion is perfect. As always, no thanks to you. There is a reason I am considered the best Potions Master in the world, thank you very much!"

Lucius held up his hands in the universal sign of surrender nervously. He had been married to the man long enough to know that you don't mess with his potions, under any circumstances.

"Come on! The ritual is ready!" Bellatrix called down the hall. Both men exchanged glances before grabbing what they required and heading down the hall.

"Rabastan!" they cried in unison, running to embrace the slightly thin but otherwise okay man, their third husband.

The three exchanged kisses and proclamations of love and being missed while both Bellatrix and Rodolphus looked away pointedly, if a little awkwardly.

"Ahem." Bellatrix cleared her throat pointedly. All three instantly unwound from each other's embrace and blushed sheepishly. "Now that that's over with," they blushed brighter, "can we get started? Great." She said without even waiting for a reply. "Positions everyone!"

_(Sorry, I can't write Rituals for the life of me so…. Um… use your imagination? Hehe… *I don't know!*)_

A figure rose in the middle of the circle, with pale skin and ruby eyes and black hair than fell to his waist.

"Tom!" Rabastan, Severus and Lucius cried in joy.

"Huh? Guys? Wait! Where's-" he was cut off as his three husbands smothered him with hugs and kissed. "Oi!" he yelled, just loud enough to get them all to take a nervous step back. "Where's my baby?" he asked in a panic.

"Oh, yeah!" Rabastan exclaimed. "Where is my little Prince?"

"Don't you remember? He was ill and died on Halloween…" Lucius began uncertainly.

"What? No he wasn't! I remember! He was stolen from us in September and we finally managed to track him down at those godawful Potter's place under the alias of Harry Potter!" Tom argued, Rabastan nodding him agreement.

"What?" Severus choked, Lucius unable to say anything at all.

"How can you not remember our baby?!" Tom snapped angrily. "Oh, god! He's out there, scared and alone and crying for me, I can feel it! My baby…" he trailed off as his breath caught in his throat. His baby!

"But, he passed away from Dragon Pox. I know he did, I can remember it!" Lucius insisted. "I held him as he- he died." He said softly, voice breaking as Severus flinched at the memory.

"Legilimens!" Tom cried without warning, forcing both Severus and Lucius to their knees at the sheer anger and panic in the presence that now rifled through their minds. "Damn him!" Tom screamed, punching the wall in anger and leaving an indent.

"Who? What is it?" Rabastan asked eagerly, not wanting to be left out.

"Dumbledore obliviated them both and gave them false memories of Prince dying from Dragon Pox so they wouldn't try to get him back." Tom laughed bitterly.

"Can you fix it?" Severus asked hesitantly, not wanting to break the obviously thin ice he was metaphorically stepping on.

"Of course." Tom answered shortly, before resuming his glaring at nothing.

"Will you?" he added after a pause.

"Huh? What- oh, right. Sure." Tom said, slightly sheepish as he did so.

Both Severus and Lucius fell over at the sudden onslaught of memories.

Waking up one morning to the sound of Tom screaming and crying hysterically, the empty cradle, feelings of utter desperation and hatred for one man, panicked searched for their baby, the joy at finding him, anger again at discovering who had him, fear at the thought of something going wrong, sending Bella and Rodol to the Longbottom's to create a distraction, the pain and grief at the news of Tom's murder, the anger that spurred them to attack, the fear at they stared down the wand to the cruel old man, the blankness as the memories of the last month were erased, and the pain and grief yet again as new ones, equally as horrible, were implanted there.

The two men cried softly. "How could we forget him?" Severus sobbed softly into Lucius' shoulder.

"I don't know. I just don't know." Lucius' reply was muffled by Severus' shoulder.

Two more figures joined them, and the four husbands clung to each other desperately, seeking comfort.

When they awoke the next morning, it was to their bedroom in the manor that had been uninhabited since that fateful night. Golden sunlight filtered in through the large windows, shining on the white, cream and gold tones of the room and the four figures huddled tightly together on the massive bed.

Tom was the first to awake, and it took him a moment to remember where he was and what had happened.

"Oh my gosh! Guys! Wake up! Wake up right now! We need to find my baby! I want my baby! Get up!" he shrieked as he threw on his clothes and forced his three husbands into their own.

"Okay, all right! We're up, already! Sheesh…" Rabastan muttered, rubbing his head where he had hit it being literally thrown from the bed. A quick glance showed both Severus and Lucius in similar states.

"Love, he's waited ten years. I don't think a few hours will make much of a difference…" Severus started. "Ow!" he cried, rubbing his head where the rather hefty tome thrown at him had reached its intended target.

"Come on, darling. Severus has a point and-" he paused, taking in the death glare being shot at him from Tom. "And we should leave right now in fact! Who needs breakfast? Not us! Let's go everyone!" he quickly back-pedalled, fearing for his life.

Tom nodded his approval, before leading the way into Muggle London.

"Wait." He said stopping mid-stride and causing something of a domino effect in the three men trailing behind them, leaving Rabastan squished into Severus who was waving his arms trying to get off of Lucius who was teetering on one foot, wind-milling his arms in the air in an attempt not to fall on the considerably smaller, seemingly oblivious Tom whom was considerably smaller in stature than all three men. "Where did you say Harry had been living?"

"We didn't." Severus stated simply, his voice slightly muffled by Lucius' jacket.

"And?" Tom prompted.

"Number 4 Privet Drive." Lucius said after several minutes of awkward positions and Tom tapping his foot.

"Good. Now can we go?" Tom made an impatient motion with his arms before turning and striding away.

"Ooh, mate. He's got you guys whipped." A man walking past them said sympathetically, albeit a little mockingly.

"Yep…" Severus. Lucius and Rabastan sighed in unison.

"So, have you heard?" the man asked excitedly.

"Heard what?"

"Harry Potter's here! In London! Today! I can't believe I could be sharing breathing space with THE Harry Potter!"

"Did you just say Harry Potter?" Tom grabbed the man's collar and dragged his face down to be level with his own.

"Yeah! That kid's incredible! They say he has already found and fixed 10 of Einstein's theories! The kid's incredible!" A nearby woman enthused.

"Do you know where we can find him?" Tom asked urgently, desperation clear in his voice.

"Why, of course! He's giving a talk in the bookshop right now on Nuclear Physics!" she squealed. "Here! I'll show you!"

When they reached the bookshop, there was a huge crowd that overflowed into the street and other shops. As it turned out, they had dedicated a radio channel to him for the day, and it was estimated that over 78% of the population were tuned in to hear him.

"Mr Potter!" one reporter called. "How did you come across this discovery?"

"Well, I was working on my thesis about dominant genetics and how they mutate through reproduction and how they react to certain hereditary diseases- by the way, it turns out that if you have, for example, blue eyes and a history of diabetes, and your child has diabetes when they're born, their eyes will be blue but will fade to brown within a month- when I, for some light reading, read Advances in Nuclear Physics, and it struck me, what would happen if I-"

And so the interview continued along that line, with reporters and fans and scientists alike diligently taking notes verbatim while his fathers just basked in awe of their son.

He was perfect, in every way. They couldn't get a clear view of him, as he was on the balcony and they were in the entrance, but his voice was wonderful. It was smooth like silk, like Severus', but a soft tenor like Tom's, with an aristocratic lilt to it like Lucius', and a slightly lower undertone to it that sounded like an echo of Rabastan's.

All too soon, however, he was being escorted through the back of the shop by his hired bodyguards, much to the displeasure of the crowds, which groaned and moaned and cried for him to stay a little longer.

"We, Tower Prep Institute, thank you for your support. Please donate on your way out or on our website." An official looking man addressed the crowd, waving softly before following the path Harry had taken.

"What did you think?" Lucius asked Severus.

"He is a… genius." Severus stated softly, utterly astonished.

"That he is," Rabastan agreed, before turning to the smallest of the four. "… Tom?" he asked, slightly fearful of the glint in the other man's eye.

"Tower Prep, huh? Fufufu…" he cackled softly, before spinning on his heel and marching out the door.

This isn't good.

_With Harry, a few days later…_

Harry, no, Prince, stared at his reflection appraisingly. It had taken him weeks to find the information in the books he had acquired from Diagon and Knockturn Alley he needed to cancel the charm Lily Potter had cast on him to make him look like their son would have had they not stolen him from his own parents.

His body had lengthened, to an above average 5'3", with defined muscles covering his defined body. His hair was pitch black and, had it been short, curly, but due to its new length softly waved all the way down to his ankles, he had some hair over his shoulder's, framing his face and had pulled the sides back and pinned them together at the back of his head. His skin was even paler, if that was possible, ethereally so, and almost luminescent. His right eye was not green, but a rich blue that he just knew was the same colour as his mother's eyes. His left eye was still the same, he had long since resigned himself to the fact that it would never change. His cheekbones were higher, more defined and elegant, his jaw stronger and his features more aristocratic.

His body was marred only by the scars left for him by the Dursleys.

He tilted his head softly, enjoying the way his hair fell down his back to his ankles. He pulled on the soft robe he wore around his room. It was long and sweeping and black in colour. He focused softly and felt all his scars disappear. Another thought and his hair was white-gold with silver highlights.

Oh, yes, he quite liked this appearance. His eyes were thinner in his true body, giving him a cold, calculating and cruel look, with a highly intimidating way of looking directly down his nose at someone, even if they were taller than him. (think Havi from Crimson Spell. Eeep! He's so cool! *stars for eyes*)

He was no longer thin, like he had been due to malnourishment, but strongly built with defined muscles. Oh, he couldn't wait until he was an adult!

A buzz from his door brought him out of his musings, and he pressed the intercom button.

"Yes?" he asked tiredly. If it was another freaking tsunami of fan mail…

"Hello, Mr Potter. There are four men here to see you." The receptionist announced politely, well used to his constant shortness and irritability.

"Can't you deal with it? Or the Director?" he rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on.

"Trust me, Mr Potter. You're gonna want to take this."

"Fine!" he snarled. "Send them up!" see what they think of him as he was now!

Five minutes later, the door opened and four men walked into the room.

"Hello Harry." One greeted. He made a soft sound in his throat, not looking up from the haunting melody he played on his violin.

"Or should we say Prince?" another quipped, as though it were a private joke. His head shot up, and he stared in shock at the now oh-so familiar men standing before him.

"We're you fathers." The third one, yet to speak said gravely.

"And mother!" the smallest one of them snapped indignantly, before instantly transforming into the person from his memories.

"Yes, you most certainly are."


	3. Chapter 3

"… what?" Tom asked after a long pause.

Prince (Harry) threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, come on! Did you honestly think I would be so foolish as to not remember the man who gave birth to me? That's rich!"

"Hmpf!" Tom muttered indignantly, obviously a little insulted.

"In our defence, it was a perfectly liable theory to hold, given that we have not seen you since you were 15 months old. Most people can't remember events from so young." Severus pointed out.

"Yes, well, I'll give you that one." Harry admitted softly, his face more serious now. "I only came across my memories during my occlumency studies."

"Occlumency?" Lucius asked in shock.

"Why, yes. I found Lily Potter's old diary in that trunk over there," he nodded to it, "about three months or so ago. It had been collecting dust for the four years I've lived here and who knows how long before that. I must admit to being shocked at the discovery of magic, though when I found the so called "adoption papers", it threw me for a while. In order to get my mind off it, I grabbed the first book in there which happened to be on occlumency and went from there."

"Oh! My baby's a genius!" Tom cried, throwing himself at Prince and suffocating him in a hug.

"I… cannot… breathe…" Prince choked out.

"I'm sorry, baby!" Tom hurried to loosen his grip on Prince, who began to tentatively return the embrace.

"It is quite alright. And I'm not a baby." He glowered softly at the last part. He hated people looking down on him just because of his age.

"Yes you are!" Tom insisted. "You'll always be my baby!"

"Oh?" Prince challenged, yanking himself from his mother's embrace and pacing, snarling softly at his parents. "And where were you the last, oh, I don't know, ten years of my life? Where were you when I was locked in a cupboard and beaten for accidental magic? Accidental being the operative word! Where were you when I was-" he cut himself off and took a few deep breathes to compose himself. He hated losing control, whether it be of himself or a situation or even of other people.

"You… went through all that?" Rabastan asked softly as Tom sobbed quietly.

"I… apologise for my outburst. It will not occur again. Please put it from your minds." Prince said softly, awkwardly patting Tom's hair in an effort to soothe the man. It did not appear to work.

"Oh! My baby!" Tom wailed. "I'll destroy them, the filthy muggles! I'll rip them to shreds and burn the pieces! I'll feed them to the dementors! No! The threstrals! I'll crucio them within an inch of their life! I'll-"

Prince cut him off by placing a hand over his mouth. "That is not necessary. Vernon is in prison for life, Petunia for the next ten more years and Dudley is in Juvenile, soon to be sent to St Brutus' Academy. I do not blame you… mother." He added softly. Tom's eyes watered again as joy light them up.

"Oh! My baby…" he sobbed softly as he wrapped Prince in another hug, which was awkwardly returned. "You'd better get used to this, 'cause I'm going to call you that every day!" Tom announced much to Prince's displeasure as he tried to escape the kisses being peppered on his face.

"Unhand me!" Prince snapped as he attempted futilely to escape the embrace. "Ugh! Come on! No kisses, goddammit!"

"Language!" Severus said automatically, finally snapped out of his stupor.

"I'll use any fucking language I want! What are you gonna do about it?" Prince snarled, instantly turning on the three men.

"Oh, god, he's scarier than Tom is when he's angry…" Rabastan whispered to Lucius, whom nodded his hasty agreement as both backed away from Severus.

"I'll use you in one of my potions, you dunderhead!" Severus retorted.

"You can't! The only potion that uses any part of the human body is Polyjuice Potion, which requires a hair or toenail! Anymore and it would explode!" so there.

"The only known potion." Severus replied smugly.

"You're bluffing! Any other human body parts would react badly with the other ingredients! If you added some to a potion with aconite in it, it would become a poison that gives the victim rash, boils and projectile vomiting to a fatal degree when inhaled! If it's added to any other ingredient, it does similar things! No matter what, it is always fatal!" Prince argued heatedly.

"How did you know that…?" Severus asked softly.

"I've researched it. I even experimented for all of a week, but my guinea pigs kept dying and I ran out of explanations for the science department." This said with a slight pout.

"Why didn't you just buy some yourself?" Severus deadpanned.

"Spent all my money on books from Knockturn and Diagon." He muttered softly, much to the others' amusement.

"Um… since when is your hair that colour?" Lucius asked hesitantly.

"Oh! Since this morning, in fact! Just before you came I changed it!" Prince replied brightly.

"Um… changed it?"

"Yes. I'm a metamorphmagus." Prince said simply. "Among other things…" he muttered under his breath.

"Don't mutter!" Severus admonished instinctively.

"Sheesh, you really have spent too long teaching brats, haven't you father?" Prince snorted softly, not missing but choosing to ignore the joy in Severus' eyes at the title.

"Yes… I suppose I have." Severus said softly.

"If he's 'father' what are we, chopped liver?" Rabastan joked.

"No, your dad and he's papa and he's mummy. Duh!"

"Err… right…" Rabastan rubbed the back of his head, grinning nervously.

"Oh, honestly, wipe that ridiculous expression of your face!"

"Y-yessir!"

"And don't do it again!"

"Y-yessir- I mean, no sir- I mean yes sir, I-"

"Are you always this articulate?" Prince asked dryly.

"Only when Tom's glaring at him." Lucius chuckled. "You've got his glare, you know." Lucius added softly, smiling when Prince did.

"I am… glad."

"Why are you wearing an eye patch?" Tom burst out, unable to hold the question, however rude, in.

"Personal reasons." Prince deadpanned.

"And the cane?"

"No comment."

"And the limp?"

"Absolutely no comment."

"And the… the scars?"

"… next question…"

"Can I see your eye?"

"No."

"Why not?!"

"You can see my right eye. That is, by definition, my eye."

"Your left one!"

"Nope."

"And why the hell not?!"

"Personal. Reasons."

"Come on! Listen to your mother!"

"No."

"Why are you being so stubborn?"

"Because."

"That's not an answer."

"…"

"Give me some answers!"

"Yes, no… to get to the other side… 1.772453851… to throw into confusion…"

"I don't want to know what the square root of Pi is!"

"…you knew that?" Prince asked softly, looking up interestedly.

"Yes. I was… raised by muggles too…" Tom replied hesitantly.

"Ah, I see. I suppose we have more in common than hereditary aspects." Prince said, slightly sympathetic.

"No." Tom shook his head. "What they did to me at the orphanage, within the space of 17 years… was nowhere near as bad as whatever the Dursleys have done to you in the space of 6 odd years. I cannot… sympathise with whatever could have caused… this." He said, motioning towards the scars littering his body.

"Ah, yes. Quite." Prince nodded his understanding. "I would hope for everyone to be able to say that, but alas… though I do wonder what would have happened in the last four years, and I hate to think what would have happened to me when I got my Hogwarts letter from the old fart. I imagine it would have been quite horrific. I hesitate to say this, but… I would not have lived to see the letter arrive. Of that I am certain." He said softly, a haunted look in his eyes.

"So… a metamorphmagus, huh?" Rabastan asked in a desperate attempt to change the subject.

"Mm. Among other things." Prince said.

"What other things?" Lucius asked.

"I am a parselmouth," here Tom beamed proudly, "an elemental-"

"Which element?" Severus enquired eagerly.

"All of them."

"All of…" Lucius sat down heavily on the couch in the large room, white Rabastan fell on his but in shock and Severus just shook his head, muttering something along the lines of 'of course he is'.

"Yes. All of them."

"That's my baby!" Tom cheered, hugging Prince to himself happily. "And I love your hair like this. Did you… change anything else?"

"No. Just my hair."

"Aww! My baby's gonna grow up to break hearts one day! You'll make a great Sire, I just know it! I wonder how many carriers you're gonna have…"

"Sire?" Prince asked, his interest piqued.

"Yeah! All wizards are either Sires or Carriers. Sires, well, sire and carriers, like me, give birth. Exceptionally powerful Carriers will have multiple Sires, but sometimes Sires can have multiple Carriers. Though that's rare."

"And how do you know I'm a Sire?" Prince questioned eagerly.

"Have you looked in the mirror at any point in your life? You couldn't be a Carrier if you wanted to. You just aren't submissive." Tom stated bluntly.

"Nor are you." Harry pointed out.

Tom laughed loudly, joined by his three husbands. "No, no. Carriers aren't always that kind of submissive. I mean, you get them. You get types that submit completely in all situations, but they usually have creature blood, and you get types that only submit in the bedroom-"

Prince once again slammed his hand over Tom's mouth. "There are some things one does not need to know."

"Fike shawt?" (Like what)

"Well, like, for example, how three men managed to get you pregnant with their child. That one does not, as I have said before, just take the cake. It takes the whole. Bloody. Christmas tin." He told his now blushing mother, while Severus, Lucius and Rabastan shifted uncomfortably. "Though it shouldn't be physically possible…"

"It's physically possible." The four deadpanned in unison, much to Prince's horror.

"Oh, come on!" he snapped, clamping his hands over his ears. "I did not need to hear that. Aw! Gross mental picture! Dammit! I hate my life. Lalalala, I can't hear you!… ponies, unicorns, rainbows, the colour yellow… anything!"

Tom laughed along with Rabastan, pointing mockingly at their son while Lucius snickered and Severus smirked evilly.

"You fucking planned this-" Prince's tirade was cut off by the intercom. "What?!"

"Hello, Mr Potter, some mail came in for you. I sent it up already." He swore he could hear the man cackling even after the intercom turned off.

The door opened and several men wheeled wheelbarrows into the room, dumping the mail in the center of the rug and leaving Prince drowning in letters.

"Oh, come on!"

"Baby!" Tom cried, throwing piles of letters over his shoulder and digging Prince out, before lifting his son out of the pile in his arms and placing him on the ground again a distance way, practically hissing at the white envelopes.

"Mummy, I'm fine…" he sighed, fixing his hair in a high ponytail.

"Oh, your hair is beautiful like that…" Tom gushed, running his fingers through the silky strands.

"So, what are your plans for when you go to Hogwarts?" Severus asked.

Prince stiffened and turned away, fisting his hands so hard he pierced the skin and he felt blood drip down his fingers. The action was so sudden it caused Rabastan to startle softly.

"… Prince?" Lucius asked worriedly.

"I… have plans that I must… act on. I cannot… let anything interfere." He said, voice wavering slightly. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Rabastan asked in concern.

"…this." Prince spun and held out his shaking hand in their direction. "Forgive me…" he pleaded softly, a single tear dripping from his eye.

"…baby?" Tom started, taking a hesitant step forward. Prince's hand shook violently, and tears streamed silently down his face but a determined gleam light up his eye.

"Obliviate."


	4. Chapter 4

**WARNING! OOCness. LOTS OF OOCNESS, but don't worry, Draco will still be the prat we all love to hate in public ;)**

Prince stood impassively on platform 9¾ on September 1st. He still remembered the day he had met them.

_He quickly erased their memory of the past 24 hours from their minds, and deciding that was all he needed to do, he cast a silent spell to knock them all out._

_He watched sadly as his parents, his three fathers and beloved mother, dropped to the floor, unconscious. He raised his hand again and willed them to return to their home, and as soon as they disappeared from his room, he collapsed, sobbing harder than he ever had in his life and holding himself tightly, as he hadn't since he was five._

_'Master…?' Christian hissed concernedly, slithering over to him. 'What is wrong?'_

_'Christian… they'll never forgive me, will they?' Prince whimpered. _

_'You don't know that…' the snake hissed uncertainly._

_'Yeah. If they're anything like me, than yeah I do…'_

_"Young Master?" another voice joined the conversation, and Prince turned his head to smile weakly at the man stepping out from the shadows._

_"I am fine Lucifer, thank you." He assured him as he stepped out of the shadows fully._

_The man was tall, with blood-red hair and black, glittering eyes. He had a feminine face, delicately sharp with lithe muscles flexing under the uniform/suit he wore._

_"If you are sure, Young Master." The demon replied uncertainly. They had been together for several years now, and he genuinely cared for the too-old young child that had outsmarted him so beautifully into serving him so long ago. He gently offered the boy a handkerchief, which was gratefully received._

_"I am."_

He cut himself off before he could get emotional. It would do no good now. He had things to do.

He picked up his trunk with the strength he spent hours training his body to have and walked down the train until he found an empty compartment in the back.

He watched the families saying goodbye on the platform impassively, trying to tell himself he didn't wish his mother and fathers were kissing and hugging him goodbye, his mother especially. He could just picture him crying dramatically and waving him off with a handkerchief and waterworks. He told himself he didn't care. After all, they say if you say something enough you'll start to believe it, right?

It did not work.

He sighed dejectedly to himself, berating himself internally. He had no one to blame but himself.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, focusing on staying calm. It would do no good to have a breakdown now. He could not afford it.

"Excuse me, can I sit here? Everywhere else is full…" a red-haired boy stood outside his door.

"Oh, um… sure." Harry (I will be referring to him as such for most of the story, but remember if it says Prince it means Harry and vice-versa, they're the SAME PERSON) replied hesitantly, unsure of whether or not it would be a good idea to befriend too many people at once.

"Great! My name's Ron Weasley!" the boy said, holding out his hand to shake.

"Harry Potter." Harry replied, twirling one super-long strand of white-gold hair around his finger, reaching out with his other hand to shake Ron's.

"Harry Potter?!" he gasped.

"No, really?" Harry said sarcastically, widening his eyes.

"Do you have the… the scar?" Ron asked hesitantly, his eyes zooming in on Harry's forehead, who gave a long suffering sigh but shifted the fringe that hid the left half of his face, cutting across his right anyway. "Wicked." He breathed, leaning back.

"Can I sit here? Everywhere else is full." A new voice cut into their thoughts, and they turned to face another boy. "My name is Draco Malfoy." He said, walking right in and sitting next to Ron across from Harry. "You must be Harry Potter and… Ronald Weasley…" the boy added with a hint of disgust.

Ron opened his mouth to argue, but Harry cut him off. "Hey! If you two are gonna act like children, do it somewhere else! I don't have time for you, okay?"

"Sorry Harry…" they muttered in unison.

"Hmpf… let's just act our age, please?" He said, scowling at them disapprovingly.

"You don't look like I thought you would." Ron said abruptly.

"You don't either." Harry shot back.

"…fair enough, I suppose. What house do you reckon you'll be in?" he asked.

"Slytherin." Harry and Draco responded.

"What about you?" Harry asked Ron, who was chewing his lip nervously.

"Gr-Gryffindor." He said, glancing up to gauge their reactions. "You'll still be my friends though, right?" he asked desperately.

"Of course." Harry replied solemnly, stepping on Draco's foot when he opened his mouth to say something.

"Anything from the trolley dears?" a kindly old lady peered inside the compartment, pushing a trolley of sweets.

"We'll take three of everything." Harry replied, holding out a number of galleons. The woman brightened instantly and made the exchange happily, before practically skipping down the train.

"Thanks Harry." Ron said with his mouth full as he shovelled the candy into his mouth while both Harry and Draco grimaced with distaste.

"It's below your nose, Ron." Harry smirked.

"Hey, who have you got on your card?" Draco asked as he opened his own chocolate frog.

"…Dumbledore." Harry sneered softly.

"Oh, I've got loads of him! And here, you can have my Morgana, start your own collection." Ron said, holding out the aforementioned card.

"Thank you." Harry replied hesitantly, accepting it gingerly. He turned around to come face to, well, hand with Draco holding out a Salazar Slytherin.

Harry smiled gratefully at the boy who blushed softly and refused to look at him for the next five minutes.

"Hey, let's play exploding snap!" Ron suggested, holding out a handful of cards.

"Sure." Draco agreed.

"Um… How do you play?" Harry asked slowly, staring in confusion and trepidation as one of the cards let out a puff of smoke.

"You don't know how to play?" Draco and Ron exclaimed in unison, before shooting each other dirty looks before looking back to Harry.

"No." he replied, slightly irritated.

"We have to fix that, now!"

A couple of hours later, their game was interrupted by a snobbish girl. "Have any of you seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one." She sniffed.

"No." they deadpanned.

"Hmpf. Well, keep an eye out, I suppose…" she muttered, turning back at the last minute. "…thanks."

"And it looks like we'll be arriving soon, best get ready." Harry said, with slightly singed eyebrows, in comparison to Ron's still smoking ones, turning around to get changed as the others followed suit.

"Hey, Harry?" Draco started softly. "Why do you have an eye patch and a cane?"

"An accident." Harry responded in a tone that brooked no argument.

"Okay…" Draco said, nodding in agreement and stepping on Ron's foot when he tried to question Harry further.

"So, have you read the text books yet?" Harry asked after they were all in their robes.

"No…" Draco and Ron said in unison, before shooting each other dirty looks once again and turning away.

"I read them in a day." Harry said bluntly. "You'll never get anywhere in class if you don't have a basic at the very least understanding of the course for the rest of the year. I've read the text books up to seventh year."

"Are you sure you're not a Ravenclaw?" Ron quipped. Harry sneered at him softly.

"Oh, look! We're here!" Draco said happily, leaning out of the window.

"Ron, pull him back in please?" Harry said as he pulled his hair into its customary high ponytail, as Ron did so.

"Unhand me!" Draco snapped, flinging his hands in Ron's general direction, engaging him in one of those sissy fights of hands swiping up and down.

Harry gave a long-suffering sigh and rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Children! Don't hit each other!" he snapped in a parental tone.

"Yes sir!" they jumped away from each other, standing to attention automatically before blushing and scowling respectively while Harry smirked.

"Firs' years! Firs' years o'er 'ere!" A large man yelled by some boats.

"Come on, Harry, Draco! Let's get a boat together!" Ron said, grabbing the others by their hands and dragging them to a boat.

"Umm… are you sure this is safe?" Draco asked hesitantly, squeaking in alarm and gripping the seat tightly when the boat rocked gently as it began to move across the lake. "I c-can't swim…"

"Don't worry, if you fall in I'll save you, I promise." Harry said reassuringly, sitting next to him with Ron across from them both.

"Th-thanks…" Draco stuttered, blushing as Harry just grinned and wrapped an arm around his friend's shoulders.

"I guess I would have to make sure Harry doesn't die trying to save your arse…" Ron muttered in agreement, making Draco and Harry laugh while he grumbled something under his breath.

"Oh, wow…" Draco breathed, nudging Harry with constant demands to 'look at that!' as well as multiple announcements of 'you have got to see this!', in response to which Harry rolled his eyes, sighing long-sufferingly when Ron joined in the antics, poking him on the arm and cheek

Harry looked up and smiled softly at the sight. A huge, grand castle stood on top of a hill, seemingly rising from the ground as part of it as it overlooked the great lake.

It was, in a word, magical, Harry thought as he drifted off into space, thoughts and plans forming already.

"…your house is like your family." Harry caught McGonagall saying after being nudged out of his reverie by Draco.

"Oh, right, sorry…" Harry said sheepishly while Draco just shook his head softly.

"Don't worry about it." He replied softly.

"Follow me." McGonagall said shortly, and they entered the sorting.

The first thing that happened did surprise him, admittedly. A hat singing a song? What was wrong with the world?

"Well, that was weird." Harry murmured to his new friends, making them laugh softly.

"Psst! Severus! Look at that!" The man sitting next to him whispered.

"What?" he replied softly.

"A Malfoy and a Weasley!" he said in shock.

"It's the Armageddon." The man sitting on Severus' other side said dryly.

"The boy is a miracle worker." A third man added in awe.

"He is a miracle." The first man to speak said, glowering.

A girl named Susan Bones went to Hufflepuff, a girl named Hermione Granger went to Ravenclaw, a boy named Neville Longbottom went to Gryffindor and Harry told Ron he would make a good friend.

Draco was next, and he went to Slytherin, of course. And when Harry was called, the whole hall seemed to hold their breath.

"Is that him?"

"I can't believe it's _the_ Harry Potter!"

"Wow! His hair's so long!"

"It's beautiful!"

"He's so handsome!"

'Hello Mr Potter… oh, my… that is quite the situation, isn't it? Well, what'll it be? Slytherin or Ravenclaw, my boy?' a voice asked him inside his head.

'Whatever you think is best, in all honesty. Both have their pros and cons. On one hand, Slytherin presents a greatly united front and would make a brilliant ally for my plans, but they face prejudice.'

'On the contrary, I think your being there would change some people's opinions. Why, you have already managed to make a Malfoy and a Weasley befriend each other. Those families have been in a feud for generations. You're something of a miracle worker.'

'Yes, I suppose. But Ravenclaw would keep me both out of the inter-house competitions and out of the public attention, as it is capable of flying under the radar…'

'My dear boy, you are never going to fly under the radar, and this conversation practically made my decision for me, so it may as well be…'

"Slytherin!"

Professor McGonagall seemed incapable of speech and spluttered softly as he handed the hat back to her and stood. A quick glance to the head table showed Dumbledore glaring softly at the hat.

The green table broke into cheerful and smug applause as he walked over, cane tapping delicately on the ground and his head held high as he took his seat beside Draco and across from another boy called Theodore Nott.

"We don't got Potter!" two identical voices cried dramatically from the red and gold table and Harry chuckled softly, shaking his head.

Ron, of course, went to Gryffindor, and another boy named Blaise Zabini was put in Slytherin, and he came over and sat beside Harry on his right.

"Right, well! I just have few words to say before we begin our feast, and here they are; Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" Dumbledore said jovially, clapping his hands as the food appeared of the tables.

"What kind of a lunatic…?" Harry muttered, gaining the approval and agreement of many Slytherins.

"He's hugely biased towards Gryffindor, it's ridiculous. Whenever they fight or harm us, we get detention or expelled and they get points!" a boy from further down the table snarled, glaring at the old coot.

"What utter codswallop." Harry said simply. "Not only is it unfair, it's ridiculous not to punish the party in the wrong. Allowing prejudice to blind one's decisions is what gets one killed."

"True that." several Slytherins muttered, saluting him with their goblets of pumpkin juice.

"Welcome to Slytherin. My name is Marcus Flint, I'm Quidditch Captain and 5th year Prefect." Another boy introduced himself.

"Harry Potter." He replied simply, though apparently there was no need.

"Everyone knows who you are." Another girl, a first year, said. "The name's Pansy, Pansy Parkinson. This is Daphne Greengrass." She said, indicating a somewhat shy girl sitting next to her.

"Millicent Blustrode." A masculine, slightly unattractive girl said grudgingly after being elbowed softly by Pansy.

"Katherine Pierce. Please call me Katie." The last first year, a small, doll-like girl said.

"Attention everyone!" Dumbledore called from the podium, causing everyone too look up from their now empty plates to listen. "We have a few new members of staff here this year, so please allow me to introduce you. This is Thomas Robinson, our new Muggle Studies professor!"

A man stood up, with dark brown hair and eyes, and a rather average face. But Harry saw through him easily, through his glamour to the face of none other than his mother.

But if he was here than that meant-

"And our new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Quirinus Quirrel." His father Rabastan, hidden under a glamour also, stood and waved before sitting.

"And finally, our new Ancient Runes professor, Lucius Malfoy! Please make these men feel welcome." Dumbledore said.

"Did you know your father was teaching this year?" a girl asked Draco.

"No! I had absolutely no idea. I wonder why he didn't tell me…" Draco said quietly, a slightly hurt tone to his voice.

"Don't worry, I'm sure he merely intended for it to be a surprise." Harry said reassuringly, wrapping an arm around Draco's shoulders.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Draco asked softly, so low only Harry could hear.

"I'd like to think of you as my little brother, baby bro." Harry replied.

"Hmm… I've always wanted a big brother." Draco said, smiling and giggling cutely, reaching out to wrap an arm around Harry's waist.

"I'm glad." Harry said, tightening his arm softly to pull Draco firmer against his side. He looked up when something glowed above the head table, and saw words written in the air above Dumbledore's wand.

"Now, here are the lyrics to the school song, so everyone pick your favourite tune, and off we go!"

What proceeded was a symphony of cats being run over by a lawn mower due to the sudden influx of cantankerous noise and voices. Harry chose the tune of the lullaby from his memories; he had not been able to get it out of his head since and Draco a tune unfamiliar to him. The entire thing was finished by the Weasley twins', two people Harry desperately wanted in his group of allies and friends after practically stalking them in Diagon Alley through the use of his metamorphmagus abilities, slow funeral march, spurring many people to laugh, Harry included.

It was only after they were told to follow their prefects that Harry began thinking worriedly.

"How the hell are they here? I erased their memories of me, didn't I? I got rid of the entire day, a full 24 hours! There's no way they could have broken my obliviate… oh this isn't good!" he muttered to himself.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Draco asked concernedly, walking beside him, their arms linked and fingers entertwined, with a soft happy bounce in his step despite his concern, Theodore Nott on his other side while Blaise Zabini followed Harry diligently.

"Oh! Nothing, don't worry about it. Look! We're here!" Harry said quickly, grateful for the distraction.

"Now, the password is Snakes in the Grass. If you forget the password or where the portrait is, just ask another member of Slytherin, okay?" Marcus said, smiling softly.

"Well, now that we're all seated, I'll tell you the rules of Slytherin house. Basically, it's like this; when we are outside of the dorms we must wear our masks, so as not to show weakness, and we have to present a united front against the other houses. Slytherins face a lot of prejudice, so like it or not, you're all going to have to get along like family members, okay? While we are in here, just be yourselves. But do not, under any circumstances, tell a member of another house where the portrait is and/or what the password is, all right? I won't be responsible for any actions against you should we suddenly get stormed by Gryffindorks in the middle of the night." He said sternly. "Yes, Mr Potter?"

"Is that not slightly hypocritical?" He asked bluntly, earning him shocked and appraising looks from the elder Slytherin students, all of whom were in the common room as well. "I mean, you speak of other houses holding prejudice against us as though it's a bad thing, but you all seem to hold a very high level yourself, especially for Gryffindor. Also, when you act not only cold and distant, but also cruel and unapproachable in public, it does not exactly encourage good public relations, does it? At least, not to my understanding." he added rhetorically, a slightly sarcastic edge to his voice.

"Good point, Mr Potter." Snape said, appearing through the portrait hole. "I am… impressed." He said inclining his head with a myriad of emotions flickering in his eyes.

"Thank you, professor." Harry said, inclining his head and fighting not to allow any recognition flicker in his eyes.

"Yes, Severus. Mr Potter presents a good argument." His father Rabastan… no! Professor Quirrel added, stepping through also.

"I most certainly am impressed by the amount of logic shown in that statement. Logical thinking is not something commonly seen in one so young. Especially not at that level." Professor Malfoy smirked slightly, and Harry could almost visibly see the thought running through his head in his eyes as he spoke it to his husbands' through legilimency. 'He gets that from MY side of the family.' "It was irrefutable."

"Yes, a far cry from the rather limited brain of James Potter, is it not?" his mother… no, goddammit! Professor Robinson quipped, closing the portrait door behind him.

"Now, if any of you have any problems and either I am not available or one of the elder members cannot assist you, please go to one of these three teachers." Professor Snape announced. "Now, off to bed with you!" he said, making a shooing motion at them.

Harry practically ran up the stairs, feeling the gaze of his parents burning into his back.

"Christian!" he said happily, moving to the far bed from the wall where his precious albino Black Mamba lay. He picked him up and draped him around his neck. He nodded a greeting to the raven perched on the top of his bed.

"Is that your pet?" Blaise Zabini asked softly.

"Yes. This is Christian and that is Lucifer." Harry replied simply. The other boys nodded their acceptance, and Harry closed his drapes, getting changed and lying in the bed with Christian curled around him.

"Merlin, they're all here. And they know me. How could they know me?" Harry asked his friend, a hint of desperation in his voice.

"Perhaps you did not obliviate enough? And they had become privy to knowledge of your identity before they came to see you?" Lucifer suggested kindly, preening Harry's long hair soothingly.

"Yeah, that must be it. There's no way I did it wrong… no way…" he muttered as he drifted off into a fitful sleep.

* * *

"Oh, he's so beautiful…" Tom breathed, wrapped securely in his husbands' arms.

"That he is…" Severus agreed softly.

"And smart. I mean, Jesus Christ, what kind of eleven year old has 10 PhD's, three Doctorates, nine Master's degrees and 5 Bachelor's? It just ain't natural…" Rabastan muttered in awe, going over the files they managed to gather on him through both connections and magic. "Look! He even has a degree in linguistics! He speaks over 25 different languages, excluding different forms of dialects. Incredible…"

"That one!" Lucius defended. "He's a genius, but did you read why? Severe head trauma from beatings at the hand of his goddamn uncle, that's why! At least he's making the most of it…"

"That man's lucky he's in jail, or I swear…" Tom snarled, eyes narrowing at the thought.

"I know, I know…" Rabastan muttered, rubbing his eyelids tiredly before climbing into bed with the others.

"Did you see how close he and Draco were?" Lucius asked, smiling. "I skimmed Draco's surface thoughts. He already sees Harry as his big brother, despite being the elder of the two age-wise, and intends to glue them at the hip."

"Yes, I saw that as well." Severus said softly.

"It's nice…" Tom muttered, yawning and half asleep. "But I just can't shake the feeling I'm forgetting something… something important…"


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hello! Me again! *smiles sheepishly in corner* Firstly; boy oh boy! I got a lot of criticism for the end of the last chappie. I would have uploaded this earlier, but it was kind of funny to see everyone's reaction! (And I'm incurably lazy… and am currently doing battle (en guard and then get out of my head) with approximately five fanfic IDEAS on top of ongoing stories! My mind's a dangerous place and sometimes I swear I'm not the only person in there…) Anywhooo… I know it sounded really unrealistic, but I hope this clarifies and chills some people (you know who you are ;P). Plus when I said doctorates I meant in different ****_medical _****fields. I know that a PhD and Doctorate are basically the same, but Harry has doctorates in medical fields and PhDs in things like psychology and philosophy. I would have posted this sooner, but the second half was giving me hell to write because I had to look up how some of the classes went because for the life of me I couldn't remember. Hehe… ^^' **

_"What are you working on now, Master?" Lucifer asked his young master. It was currently 1970 and they were in France, in a small villa near a tiny wizarding village that was barely aware of their existence._

_"You'll see." Harry replied mysteriously, smirking at the exasperated look his demon gave him._

_"Why don't you tell me while I check for any adverse effects that might have resulted from using the time turner to go back nearly 20 years, hmm?" Lucifer counted, and Harry conceded defeat. "So what was it?"_

_"It's a potion combined with a charm that will allow me to, well… for lack of a better term 'speed read'. Basically it will take me all of one second to read and absorb one page's worth of knowledge at a time. I love magic!" Harry's eyes glinted as he thought of all he could achieve with that._

_"Do you really need more degrees, Master?" Lucifer asked incredulously. The achievement was incredible, he could admit, but _still_._

_"Yep. Knowledge is power, Lucy." Harry smirked, jumping down from his seat and running back to his lab._

_Lucifer sighed and shook his head in exasperation. Really, of all the humans-_

"Harry! Wake up!" Draco whispered urgently, shaking said boy awake.

"Mmm? Dray, what is it?" Harry murmured sleepily, taking in the boy above him with tears shining in his eyes with growing alarm. "What's wrong?" he asked frantically, sitting up quickly.

Draco threw himself at Harry, landing in his lap with his arms wrapped around his neck and face buried in his shoulder. "I…I had a bad dr-dream! It was scary…" he whimpered.

"Oh, Dragon…" Harry whispered, stroking Draco's hair soothingly. "Do you want to talk about it?" Draco shook his head against his shoulder. "Do you want to sleep with me tonight?"

"Yes please…" Draco whispered softly.

"Okay… get in, then…" Harry said, lifting the covers and dropping them again once Draco was securely cuddled against his side. He lay back down and turned to face Draco, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling the boy into his chest while Draco's hands fisted his shirt tightly, face buried in the fabric and wetting it slightly with a few left over tears.

Harry took a deep breath and began to sing. "Dancing bears, painted wings…"

He felt Draco's breathing even out and squeezed his arms gently, pulling Draco closer to him before following him to Morpheus' embrace.

_Once upon a December…_

Harry was the first to wake up in the morning, and he gently untangled himself from Draco's embrace, much to the sleeping boy's annoyance and walked into the bathroom, pulling his ankle-length hair out of the loose plait it was in and allowing the water to run over his body, his eye patch resting next to the sink. He stepped out of the shower, the automatic drying spells drying him instantly and gazed at his face in the mirror, taking in his left eye intently. The amethyst purple eye with the white pentagram was glowing softly, as it always did.

He sighed, pulling on his clothes and putting the eye patch on last. He combed through his hair and pulled it into a high ponytail that did not diminish its sheer length in the slightest, gently rearranging his side fringe to cut across from the right side of his face to cover his left eye, with a little bit just framing his face perfectly. His right eye, still so wonderfully blue, gazed back at him out of a luminescent, pale face.

When he walked back into the room, he almost cooed at the adorable sight Draco made, sitting up on his bed with his legs on either side of him, wearing a button-up shirt that, reached his mid-thigh to sleep in, his pale face scrunched and his gold hair that fell to his shoulders in soft layers like a halo, mussed from sleep as he rubbed the tiredness out of one of his stormy eyes.

"Good morning." Harry greeted, sitting beside him on the bed.

"Mmm, morning…" Draco replied blearily. Harry laughed softly and ruffled his hair.

"How did you sleep?" he asked softly, pulling Draco closer to him reassuringly.

"Better than ever!" Draco said happily, snuggling in for a hug.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Harry questioned gently, not wanting to push him into it as he returned the embrace.

"Yeah… okay…" Draco said hesitantly, tilting his head to meet Harry's eyes.

"You don't have to if you don't want to." Harry said reassuringly, hating the reluctance in Draco's eyes.

"No… I should, right?" Draco said softly, glancing up for confirmation and continuing when Harry nodded solemnly. "It was… well… it was dark… and I was in a forest, running from something. I don't know what but I know that whatever it was it was terrifying me. You were there too, holding my hand and urging me to go faster. It was getting closer, but I tripped and twisted my ankle. It… I can't remember what it looked like… but it lunged for me… its teeth were huge and pointy! And it had these terrifying hands with claws long as fingers, dripping with blood! Then, you jumped between us… and I woke up just as you… you killed it but it killed you too! I don't want you to die!" Draco sobbed, crying again.

"Oh, Dragon…" Harry breathed, wrapping his arms around the boy and rocking him back and forth on his lap gently. "I'm not going to die. I promise. I swear I won't die."

"P-pinky swear?" Draco choked around his sobs, holding out the aforementioned finger. Harry smiled softly and linked their pinkies together.

"Pinky swear." He said, pressing a gentle, tender kiss to Draco's finger, still linked with his own, as the boy cried in relief and threw his arms around Harry's neck in a choking hug. "Dr-Dragon! C-can't breathe!" he squeaked.

"I'm sorry!" Draco apologised hurriedly, the words practically stumbling over each other.

"Calm down, Dragon. It's fine… now go and get yourself cleaned up." Harry said, gently steering him towards the bathroom and giving him a bundle of clothes that made up his school uniform.

"Hey, Harry?" Blaise Zabini asked from where he had been standing silently throughout the proceedings.

"Yes?" Harry asked kindly, smiling politely in Blaise's direction.

"What was that lullaby you sang last night?"

"Yeah, it was really pretty." Theodore Nott piped up, sitting with the covers pooled around his lap. "I don't think I've ever slept that well…"

"It was the lullaby my mother used to sing to me." Harry replied honestly. That was the best way to lie, after all. Don't make something up completely, just bend the truth almost imperceptibly and you're well on your way.

"Wow…" Theodore said, grinning. "Can you sing it to us every night?" he asked suddenly.

"I- what?" Harry asked, completely taken aback.

"Yeah!" Draco cheered, stepping back into the room.

"I would like that…" Blaise added softly. Crabbe and Goyle simply nodded silently, looking for all-the world as though they didn't completely comprehend the events but agreed nonetheless, simply to be agreeable.

"Come on, guys, what am I, your mother?" Harry snapped irritably, adopting a pose with both hands on hips and one foot tapping impatiently.

"…you sure as hell look like it…" Theodore said, laughing nervously.

"Just go brush your teeth." Harry sighed, rubbing a hand over his face tiredly. "Sheesh… this is the wackiest house ever…"

"Thanks!" Draco piped up, grinning and dragging Harry by the hand into the common room.

Once there, Harry collapsed on a couch, and Draco plopped down on his lap while Blaise sat obediently at his side and Theodore sat on his other side with Crabbe and Goyle on the floor in front of them.

Draco was humming the tune of Harry's lullaby when the four professors walked in through the portrait hall and took in the sight before them with shocked expressions.

Harry was sitting with Draco on his lap, his chin resting on Draco's shoulder as he read a book balanced on Draco's thigh while Draco had his head leant back, resting on Harry's shoulder nuzzling the other boy's neck slightly, humming an all-too-familiar tune as Blaise Zabini sat on Harry's right, watching the rest of the room, leaning slightly protectively towards Harry while Theodore Nott sat on Harry's left, playing a card game with Crabbe and Goyle, whom were both sitting on the floor. Several older Slytherins, Marcus Flint included sat on the other couches that made up a semi-circle and they were all conversing, listening attentively to whatever Harry said when he decided to join the conversation, if only to correct someone's grammar.

"Not even 24 hours and already the whole house is under his thumb…" Severus muttered dryly.

"That is… just a little bit…!" Tom chuckled nervously out of the corner of his mouth.

"Ah, professors! How can we help you?" Harry asked, closing the book on his lap and directing the attention of the rest of the house to the four men.

"That was a lovely little tune, Draco." Lucius said softly, voice trembling imperceptibly. "Where did you learn that?"

"Oh! I had a bad dream last night so I asked Harry if I could sleep with him and he let me and he sang that song until I fell asleep." Draco replied, tightening his arms around Harry's neck.

"And where did you learn it, Mr Potter?" Rabastan… no, Professor Quirrel asked, smile completely fake.

"It was a song my… mother used to sing to me." Harry said slowly, gaze almost intent on Tom, who gasped softly.

"You can… remember that? Her?" Tom asked softly, almost sadly.

"No. I cannot remember her." Harry replied, hoping the message was clear.

Harry furrowed his brow slightly to try and skim his surface thoughts, but was quickly taken aback when he hit a steel barrier, impenetrable, and realised his parents' must have let their guard down or he got extremely lucky the first time they met when he obliviated them. Or, the most likely alternative, Lucifer caught on right at the last minute and lent his assistance by breaking down their occlumency shields. Well, that was a blow to his pride.

The whole exchange took less than a minute.

"I can't imagine not be able to remember my parents." Theodore said softly.

"Yeah, well, you can't miss something you never had." Harry replied tightly, bitterness lacing his voice.

"Sorry Harry…" Theodore apologised, reaching out as if to touch him reassuringly before drawing his hand back.

"It is forgotten." Harry answered, reaching out to softly squeeze Theodore's hand before releasing it.

'I'm getting soft.' He thought to himself, tuning back into the conversation occurring around him.

"Did you have a bad dream, Draco?" Lucius asked softly, sympathy shining in his eyes.

"Yeah…" Draco started, looking down at his lap in remembrance. Harry snapped him out of it by gently linking their pinkies, not raising his eyes from the book as he placed it in his bag with his free hand. "But afterwards I had the best sleep in ages!" Draco enthused, cheering instantly at the reminder and sitting up on Harry's lap in a way that resulted in him straddling it, uncomfortably judging by Harry's small and unnoticed grunt of pain during Draco's movements.

"Dragon…" Harry groaned softly. "Your knee is digging into my stomach…" and other areas… he finished mentally as he bodily lifted Draco and moved him into a more comfortable position for both of them, with both Draco's legs hooked over his, resting alongside them on the outside as he faced his adoptive father over Harry's shoulder.

"You two seem very close." Tom-Professor Robinson said, smiling softly.

"Yep!" Draco popped the 'p', grinning happily and winding his arms around Harry's neck once more.

"Everyone lo-oves Harry." Theo smirked from Harry's left while Blaise just watched the room attentively, as though actively seeking out a threat.

'What is he, a trained 40-something year old bodyguard?' Harry deadpanned mentally as he glanced imperceptibly at the Italian. Italian Mafia, more like. Actually, he had met them in 1962. Quite lovely blokes, once you got past the… well… them, really.

"What was your dream about?" Rab-Professor Quirrel enquired.

"Oh… um…" Draco stared down at his lap, worrying his lip.

"You do not have to speak of it again, Dragon, if you do not wish. You have already told me and I, as a doctor of psychology, now believe it is in your best interest to put it from your mind and try not to think about it ever again." Harry said, lifting Draco to his feet with him as he stood, swinging his bag onto his shoulder and facing the four men. "And if I'm not mistaken, we must be getting to the Great Hall for breakfast. Professors." Harry nodded his farewell to the four men as he hurried past them, followed by the other students as they slowly began to pack their things.

"It's breakfast already?" Professor Robinson asked in shock. How the time flies!

"Yes. And you're already late." Harry stated, popping his head back through the portrait hole and smirking at the alarmed looks on the Professors' faces, Tom over-reacting and freaking out completely as he was wont to do.

He shook his head fondly, smiling in a way that didn't match his saddened eyes as he caught up with Draco and the others.

"Hey, Harry." Ron greeted quietly as he caught up with them at the entrance to the Dungeons, jogging to stop at Harry's right.

"Hello Ron. Good morning! What are you doing here?" Draco asked, peering around Harry to the red-head.

"I was waiting for you, I know that Slytherin have their dorms in the dungeons, so…"

"That is very kind of you, Ron. You are welcome to join us at breakfast, should you wish." Harry offered, gaze not shifting from forwards as he took in the boy through his peripheral vision.

"I… would love that. Thank you." Ron said, smiling happily.

"For what? I simply extended an invitation to breakfast, not tea with the Queen." Harry said shortly.

"For still being my friend. Thanks." Ron replied, not wavering in the slightest as he reached over and grabbed Harry's right hand, his left occupied by Draco.

"…you are welcome." Harry replied softly, smiling in a barely-there way as Ron's fingers tightened around his own for a moment.

They sat in the Great Hall together at the Slytherin table, Harry glaring down any Slytherin who tried to object to a 'Gryffindorks' presence until the new arrivals just accepted it without argument.

Professor Snape handed out the schedules for class, taking a slightly longer time with Harry's as he imperceptibly brushed their fingertips together, gazing at him with once again a myriad of indecipherable emotions, confusion shining through as he shot Harry a classic 'I know you from somewhere' look.

Harry, however, as a psychologist, took it upon himself to decipher and accurately read in the future the mannerisms that accompanied each of the dour man's emotions, which were, while not openly showed, a sign of emotional and possibly physical neglect and abuse during childhood, Harry noted, definitely there. He had seen this before, and if the man did not begin to "open up", as it were, he would be faced with what one would call "build ups". Ones that, Harry imagined, from that man, would be rather disturbing and frightening and possibly scarring for Hufflepuffs. Yes, he would definitely see about speaking to the man after his first class with him. For strictly professional purposes, of course.

Professor McGonagall came over to the Slytherin table with Ron's schedule. "It is nice to see some inter-house unity." She smiled, her Scottish accent rich in her words as she walked away.

"That's professor McGonagall." Draco informed the other two. "My father says she's strict but fair and un-biased when it comes to houses, and especially to punishments."

"Come on, we have Potions first thing." Harry said, picking up his book bag and stowing his new schedule in it.

"Alright!" Draco said happily.

"Ugh… with the greasy git first thing on a Monday? No thanks…" Ron groaned, earning a glare from Draco and a withering stare from Harry.

"Do not judge books by their covers, Ronald Weasley. He is not that bad." Harry said coldly.

"…I'm sorry, Harry. It won't happen again." Ron said sincerely, meaning it.

"It had better not." Harry replied coldly.

"Do you hate me now?" Ron asked quietly.

"Not at all. You apologised and meant it, we grow and learn. Just refrain from doing it again." Harry said, reaching over and squeezing Ron's hand reassuringly, laughing softly when Draco latched onto his other hand possessively with a pout.

"Hey, Ickle Ronniekins!" two voices called in unison. Harry's lips twitched as Ron turned a shade of red that clashed horribly with his hair and turned angrily.

"Leave off, Fred and George!" he snapped.

"But I'm George!" the one on the right said, looking hurt.

"Oh, sorry Geo-" Harry cut him off before he could apologise for nothing

"No, you are most definitely Fred, just as your younger twin on your right; my left is most definitely George." Harry stated simply, smirking internally when the twins shot him appraising looks.

"Hello… who's this?" Fred said, leaning over to come face to face with Harry, though he did not need to by much.

"Harry Potter." He replied before Ron could. "And I prefer questions concerning myself to be posed to myself, thank you very much, or I swear…"

"Or you swear what?" George challenged.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good." Harry replied smirking outwardly at the twins shocked faces.

"How the hell did you know about that?" George hissed.

"Know about what?" Harry asked innocently, tilting his head in a 'whatever are you referring to?' manner. "Now, if you gentlemen would please excuse us, we have potions."

"Catch you later." Fred smirked.

"No you won't." Harry sing-songed, striding away with Blaise, Ron, Draco and Theodore trailing behind him, sending the twins smirks and mocking looks to show support for however Harry managed to best them, despite their utter lack of knowledge as to what is was that had rendered the infamous twins speechless and sputtering. It was a momentous occasion, after all.

The door slammed open against the wall, shocking the students out of their collective dazed stupor and Severus felt a momentary moment of self-satisfaction as he watched one particular Gryffindor, who seemed more like a Hufflepuff to him anyway, fall all the way off his stool in fear.

It was good to be the King.

Then his eyes caught sight of the boy sitting between what remained to be the oddest pairing he had ever seen in his life; Malfoy and a Weasley, Harry Potter.

The boy was an enigma. Every time he looked at him he had this all-encompassing urge to protect him, to sweep him up into his arms and never release the child. He had only ever felt the same sensation with his three husbands and his… his son, and it disturbed him greatly

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making." He began, glaring down his nose at the insufferable brats as he swept down the aisle of desks, cloaks billowing around him in a parody of wings. Some say it made him look like an over glorified bat, but it never failed to inspire a frightful sob in a Hufflepuff, so he would stick with it, thank you very much.

"As there is no foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic." Apparently Flitwick was 'offended' by his calling it 'foolish wand-waving', but Severus hardly had time to worry about the ridiculous man's delicate sensitivities. Real wizards don't prance around with wands.

"I don't expect any of you will really, truly understand the beauty of a simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes…" Yes, surprise, surprise! When your potion bubbles like hell and boils over, then you have too much heat under it. That tended to be how it worked. And when the fumes make your eyes water, there is most probably something wrong with the potion. Funny how that works, wasn't it? Suppose there can't be a logical explanation for everything.

But why bother, eh? Let's add some more precious ingredients which you have butchered on your cutting board. Let's stir a little more vehemently, clockwise of course, instead of anti-clockwise. Why read the instructions? There are more important things to do.

What? The potion has just leaped out of your cauldron and is now hiding under the table? Really? It's probably running for its life.

A million points from whichever House you're in!

"…the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins…"

Severus began to wonder if he could get away with poisoning anyone this year. Just a little bit. Not a fatal amount. This time.

But Poppy would probably notice, and then she would tell McGonagall. And then there would be nagging and finger-waggling. No, it's not worth it.

"…bewitching the mind…"

Good to know that the majority of the red and gold portion of his class weren't in danger on that regard. He doubted that they would even have a mind _to _bewitch, let alone notice that they themselves was.

"…ensnaring the senses…"

Wonder if it's too early for a drink?

"I can teach you how to bottle fame…" about here in his other class he would lose the attention of the last Hufflepuff. They are about as interested in fame as a troll with soap and water (just noticed the foreshadowing in the novel there, referencing to trolls ;).

"…brew glory…" hopefully that would be enough to reawaken his more ambitious Slytherins. Those snakes had better get and move on and win him back his House Cup.

"…even put a stopper in death."

Why bother? Let them all die. His life would be so much easier.

"If you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

Oh, why does he even get his hopes up? They will be. Incompetent, arrogant, lazy… that's it, Dumbledore. Get yourself a new Potions master. I've had it! I quit!

Snape sneered as he surveyed the room, speaking the last line and snarling softly to himself in his head as he… dear god. Don't tell him Potter wrote down the whole thing!?

"Potions is a delicate art…" he began softly, staring at the Potter boy as his mouth repeated the words and wrote down the line. "One which must be carried out with a careful hand and thoughtful actions. Not unlike a female." He muttered, earning a laugh from the male section of his class. Severus Snape was not humorous!

"Can anyone tell me what I would get it I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

This was the fun part, making them feel like utter idiots when none of them knew the answer and was that Potter's hand in the air?

"Yes, Mr Potter?"

"Asphodel and wormwood, when added in the reverse order to what I just spoke, stirred twice clockwise, added the sloth brain and the sopophorous beans' juice, best crushed, not cut to get more juice, and stirred seven times anticlockwise and then, in my opinion, clockwise once, will create a sleeping draught so powerful it is referred to as the Draught of Living Death." He recited flawlessly.

Severus' mouth nearly hit the ground as everyone turned to stare at the nonplussed Potter, who seemed to get this a lot.

He was beginning to understand why.

"And where, Mr Potter, would you look if I asked you to find a bezoar?"

"Bezoars are formed in the stomach of goats and can cure most poisons."

"And what is the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?" he almost whispered, shocked by the boy before him.

"There is none. Another name, which it is more commonly known by, is the poison aconite." Harry replied, his eyes hardening. "But it was a good trick question, Professor, anyone else would have been caught out by it."

"Yes. That was the intention…" Severus muttered to himself. "Ten points to Slytherin, Mr Potter. And one from it for cheek." He added, turning back to the board. "Now, today we will be brewing a potion to cure boils. This is truly one of the easiest to brew because none of the ingredients are reactants or volatile, so if any of you manage to blow it up I will commend you before taking one hundred points from your house…"


End file.
